On Love, Death and Grieving
Tag: grief
My Tita Migen
She was Maria Ignacia Generosa Libre Osorio. But to me, she was simply Tita Gengen.
She taught us about colours and art. She shared with us her precious tempera paints and oils and allowed us to discover our own art and colours. She taught us how to sharpen a lead pencil carefully with a Stanley knife. She shared her piano with us and started our love affair with music and taught us to respect the instrument. She wrote poetry and beautiful prose and shared with us her love of literature. On my Facebook post, I forgot to mention that she introduced me to gin rummy and solitaire and she said that as long as I knew how to play cards, I would never be bored in my own company.
She had clarity of mind and strength of will to achieve what she wanted to achieve, and nothing stopped her. Not even her own personal limitations.
She loved us, her family – her brothers and sisters, her nieces and nephews. She loved us as fiercely as only she could.
I know that you are now healthy and whole and happy with Lolo, Lola, Unce Magni, Tita Margie, Uncle Franklin and Uncle Wawell. But I will miss you Tita Migen. More than I can ever put into words.
I love you Tita Gengen.
Year 2
To lose someone you love is the very worst thing in the world. It creates an invisible hole that you feel you are falling down and will never end. People you love make the world real and solid and when they suddenly go away forever, nothing feels solid any more.
Matt Haig
Today is my Abba’s second-year death anniversary, and yet this morning, I woke up and felt absolutely heartbroken again. I think the pain was different this year because this was the first year I was completely alone in remembering him. I’m sure his siblings thought about him today, and I’m sure Mama and my siblings touched his urn and lit a candle, but this year, I was completely alone with my thoughts without a memorial service to organise and wake up for.
I know my mom thinks about him every day – I mean how could she not – they were together for more than 50 years, and solidly together for 7 years when my father fell ill because she was his primary carer. I cannot imagine the depths of her pain and how much she misses him. But this morning, I felt absolutely heartsick and I cried like a child because I missed my father so much.
I know the void that my father’s passing has created in my life will never be filled. I need to remember to give myself time – time to come to terms with my father’s death (because I don’t think I’ve properly grieved), time to heal, time to allow the pain to shift. I know the pain will always be there but it will feel differently eventually.
Perspective
I’ve not been feeling the urge to write. So I’m thankful for the ability to take photos. It allows me to put in content in other ways. I think the writing muses are letting me adjust to the massive change in my life. I don’t think I’m in the right grief stage. I’m waiting for the despondency to hit me…right when I’m vulnerable and not expecting it.
My feelings are still spaghetti-in-bowl tangled and I think I need to sort things out in my head first so that it makes sense to me.
Grief
I know I am still grieving. Even though I smile and I laugh at things. My days are still tinged with sadness. But I will be okay.
I have told myself that whatever it was that I wanted to say, whatever it was that I never actually said to my uncle, if I send out in the universe, God will make it possible for my thoughts to reach my uncle. He will know how much he is loved, valued, oh-so-appreciated and respected. The regrets are counterproductive. It is good to acknowledge them, but it won’t be healthy to dwell on them. There is nothing that can be done about the things that I haven’t done. The opportunities have passed and I will have to trust that God will make my good plans and intentions known to Uncle Wawell.
The only way to honour him is to live the life that I am living, the life that he dreamed for me and all his nieces and nephews.
Yellywelly 